The Faded Sun Trilogy (52 page)

There were surely, contained within that truth, deeper truths beneficial to Stavros and his private interests: Stavros, with a wisdom regul could respect, if not love, did not commit himself to one ally, but pursued many attachments, probing them for advantage.

There was, notably, the matter of the mri, whom Stavros still found of interest, through the agency of the allegedly mad youngling Duncan: the very thought caused Hulagh’s skin to tighten. Mad, perhaps, but if the
youngling were thus defective, then Stavros was mad to have reinstated him—and Hulagh did not believe that Stavros was mad.

A probe had gone out-system; the largest of the human warships had escorted the ship to the edge of the system, and returned home after a furious coded exchange with the ship and finally with Stavros. Hulagh regretted much that neither he nor his aides could understand that exchange, after which the warship and its rider had meekly returned to station, while the ship
Hannibal
had moved out to run escort for regul ships in their approach.

The ship with the mri aboard had left Kesrith immediately upon Stavros’ being informed that regul ships were due; Duncan, after briefing with Stavros, had been sent to that ship with his belongings, such as remained from his original transfer: a permanent stay, then, the last vestige of his occupancy removed from the Nom, although he had been virtually residing on the ship. When regul presence in the system had been announced, the probe had left the station: Hulagh had learned this from his fellow elders.

Duncan, supposedly on the station, was not available, not to his most urgent request for the youngling, and humans were evasive.

Duncan’s madness revolved around the mri, who were also—supposedly—at the station.

It was a regul kind of game. Hulagh’s hearts labored whenever he let himself dwell on the mri; doubtless the humans knew his anxiety. It only remained to find out the nature of the bargain Stavros wished to strike with Alagn—for it was surely equally clear to the humans that he now had resources with which to bargain. Hulagh trusted the humans as he had never been able to trust the mri: he trusted well a human like Stavros, who reckoned profit as regul did, in power, in territory, in resources of metals and biostuffs—and in the protection of what was his. Such persons as Stavros Hulagh found comfortingly close to his own mind; and therefore his sought an early conference.

The last of the elders disembarked. Hulagh eased his sled about, awaiting them, a term in the acrid air for which he would pay throughout the day, with a dry throat and stinging nasal passages. Three elders with their attendant younglings: Sharn and Karag and Hurn, the latter a male; Sharn, female, fourth eldest of the doch; Karag, a recently sexed male and prone to the instabilities that the Change brought on young adults: Sharn’s protégé, and
probably current mate, Karag still had the smooth skin of a youngling and he had not yet acquired the bulk of Sharn or Hurn, certainly not Hulagh prosperous dignity, but he still rated the use of a sled—the last settled by the attendant younglings. Hulagh watched, patient as the younglings fussed about the three adults and brought them on their way through the cluster of humans.

Hulagh was no longer alone, sole elder on Kesrith, surrounded only by younglings of limited experience and strange docha. His own were with him now, Alagn-ni, and his ships sat up at station, constantly manned, able by reason of proximity to the human craft and the station to prove a greater threat than ever they could in combat. The humans had allowed this; and this was another reason that Hulagh felt confident of the peace. He smiled to himself and turned, aimed the sled up the slight incline, Suth walking beside him, the humans giving way to admit him. He entered the warm, filtered atmosphere of the Nom at the head of a procession that awed the local younglings who stood inside to see it, and thoroughly satisfied his long-aggrieved pride.

“Stavros,” he heard a human youngling inform Suth, observing regul protocol, “will see the bai immediately as requested.”

“To the reverence bai Stavros,” Hulagh intoned, when Suth had ceremoniously turned to him. “Now.”

*   *   *

The meeting was not, as all previous meetings had been, in Stavros’ small office, but in the formal conference hall; and Stavros had surrounded himself with uniformed younglings and a great deal of that immobility of countenance that in humans was evidence of a pricklish if not hostile mood. Hulagh, backed now by his three elders and an entourage of Alagn’s younglings, looked about him and smiled human-fashion, far from disturbed at the new balance of powers that had doubtless troubled the humans.

“May we,” Hulagh suggested at once, before seatings could become complicated, “dispense with superfluous younglings and speak in directness, reverence?”

Stavros turned his sled and directed: human younglings sorted themselves out by rank and some began to depart. Hulagh retained Suth, and each of the Alagn elders a personal attendant, the while the four humans who counted themselves adult arranged themselves in chairs surrounding Stavros’ sled. Hulagh stared curiously at one of the four, on whom no trace of gray showed . . . this coloring he had thought indicative of human maturity, since
other colorations did not seem to have bearing: he remained mildly suspicious that Stavros breached protocol, seating this one in the inner circle, but in his expansive mood, he did not find himself inclined to object. Elder he might be: Hulagh had never learned accurately to determine seniority among these beings, who sexed in infancy and varied chaotically in appearance on their way to maturity, and after. He anticipated questions from his elders, and to his embarrassment, he did not know the answers.

There was, by the younglings, the interminable serving of soi: necessary, for the journey had taxed the energies of everyone; there were the introductions: Hulagh absorbed the names and stations of the so-named elder humans and responded with the names of his own elders, who still seemed dazed by the rapidly shifting flood of alien sights and by exhaustion. But in the introductions, Hulagh found reason for exception, and fluttered his nostrils in a sigh of impatience.

“Bai Stavros,” Hulagh said, “is there no representative from the bai of station?”

“It would be pointless,” said Stavros, using the communications screen of the sled, for Hulagh had addressed him in regul language, and so Stavros responded. “Policy is determined here. It is carried out there. Bai Hulagh, if your elders are fluent, may we use human speech?”

Characteristic of the humans, whose learning resided not in their persons, but in written records, considerable time on Kesrith had not served to give these fluency in the regul tongue. They forgot. It had amused Hulagh that meetings were often recorded on tape, lest the human forget what they had said and what had been told them: doubtless this one was likewise being recorded. After another fashion, it did not amuse him at all, to reckon that every promise, every statement made by these creatures, relied on such poor memories. To state an untruth was a terrible thing for a regul, for what was once said could not be unlearned; but doubtless humans could unlearn anything they pleased, and sometimes forget what the facts were.

“My elders are not yet fluent,” Hulagh said, and kept all trace of humor from his face as he added: “it will be instructive to them if you speak in human language; I will provide simultaneous translation my, screen.”

“Appreciated,” said Stavros aloud, “A pleasure to welcome your elders personally.”

“We are pleased to be welcome.” Hulagh set aside his empty cup and leaned back in the cushions,
manipulating the keyboard to do as he had promised Stavros. “And we are pleased that our human friends were willing to interrupt their business to provide these welcoming courtesies. But true intent becomes obscured in much formality. We are not disputing docha, in need of such. You have not attacked; we have not attacked. We are pleased with the situation.”

Such directness seemed to disturb the attendant humans. Stavros himself smiled, a taut, wary smile. “Good,” he said. “We assure you again that we are most pleased with the prospect of wider dealings with doch Alagn and all regulkind.”

“We are likewise anxious for such agreement. The mri, however, the mri remain an item of concern.”

“They need not be.”

“Because they are no longer at Kesrith?”

Stavros’ brow lifted. It seemed a smile, perhaps; Hulagh watched the reaction carefully, decided otherwise. “We are working,” said Stavros carefully, “to be able to assure the regul that there is no possible danger from the mri.”

“I have inquired about the youngling Duncan,” said Hulagh. “He is not available. The mri are off Kesrith. A ship has left. All these circumstances—perhaps unrelated—still seem to assume a distressing importance.”

There was a long pause. Stavros’ mouth worked in an expression that Hulagh could not successfully read, no more than the other: perplexity, perhaps, or displeasure.

“We are,” said Stavros at last, “attempting to trace the extent of the mri. We have found a record which is pertinent Bai Hulagh, the extent of the record is entirely disquieting.”

Hulagh drew in air, held his breath a moment. Truth: he knew Stavros well enough to rely on it.

“Part of it,” Stavros said, “may lie within regul space, but only part.”

“Abandoned worlds,” Hulagh said. He had neglected to translate in his distress: he amended his omission, saw shock register on the faces of his other elders. “Nisren, Guragen—but it is true that they have ranged far. A mri record, is it so?”

“They do write,” said Stavros.

“Yes,” said Hulagh. “No literature, no art, no science, no commerce; but I have been in the old edun—there, on the slopes. I have seen myself what may have been writings. But I cannot provide you translation, not readily.”

“Numerical records, in great part. We have understood them well enough to be concerned. We are pursuing the question. It may prove of great concern to all regul. We are concerned about the size of what those records may show us. And about possible overlapping of our researches with regul territory. Marginal intrusion. Not troublesome to Alagn; but others—”

“Holn.”

“Yes,” said Stavros. “We are concerned about the path of that probe. Yet it had to be done.”

Breath fluttered from Hulagh’s nostrils; his hearts beat in disturbing rhythm. He was utterly aware of the frightened eyes of his elders upon him, reliant on his experience, for they had none to offer. He became agonizingly aware that he was faced with something that would have repercussions all the way to Mab, and there was no way to delay the issue or seek consultations.

Alagn had power to speak for the docha, had done so in negotiations with the humans before. Hulagh gathered himself, called for another drink of soi, and the other elders likewise took refreshment. He sipped at his, deep in thought, paused for a look at Sharn, whose counsel was welcome, if not informed; Sharn gave him a look that appreciated his perplexity, agreed with him. He was gratified in that. The other elders looked merely bewildered, and Karag did not well hide his distress.

“Bai Stavros,” Hulagh said at last, interrupting a quiet consultation among the humans, “your . . . intrusion could be somewhat dangerous in terms of relations with the docha. However, with Alagn support, such an expedition might be authorized from here. The record of which you speak, I understand, extends farther than regul territory.”

“Our understanding of your extent in certain areas is vague, but we believe so.”

“Surely—our interests are similar here. We are not a warlike species. Surely you judged this when you launched the probe—and perhaps the great warship would have followed. Surely—” A thought struck Hulagh: his nostrils relaxed in astonishment. “You prepared that probe as an excuse. You let it ahead deliberately, to claim right
of pursuit, to excuse yourself—a rebel mri craft. Am I right?”

Stavros did not answer, but looked at him warily: the faces of the others defied reading.

“Yet you held the warships back,” Hulagh said. His hearts slipped into discordant rhythm. “For our consultation, bai Stavros?”

“It seemed useful.”

“Indeed. Beware a misjudgment, reverence bai Stavros. A regul in home territory is much different from a regul in distant colonies. When a doch’s survival is at stake—attitudes are very hard.”

“We do not wish any incident. But neither can we let the possibilities raised by that record go uninvestigated. A mri refuge among Holn is only one such.”

“We have similar interest,” said Hulagh softly. “I will sanction passage of that warship—in a joint mission, with sharing of all data.”

“An alliance.”

“An alliance,” said Hulagh, “for our mutual protection.”

The human slept.

Niun, warm against the bodies of the dusei, his mind filled with the animal’s peace, watched Duncan in the half-light of the star-screen, content to wait. There was in Duncan’s quarters a second bed; he refused it, preferring the carpeted floor, the nearness of the dusei, the things that he had known in the Kel. He had slept enough; he was no more than drowsy now in the long twilit waiting, and he fought the impulse to slip back into half-sleep, for the first time finding acute pleasure in waking to this new world. He had his weapons again; he had the dusei for his strength; and most of all Melein was safe, and in possession of the pan’en and the ship.

Their ship.

He suspected they owed much to this human, shamefully much; but he was glad that Melein elected to take it, and to live. It was a measure of Melein’s own gratitude that she bent somewhat, that she left the times of things in Niun’s own hands;
when you think him fit
, she had said, and even permitted the ship’s schedule to be adjusted so that they might enter a premature night cycle, which they themselves did not need: but Duncan needed the sleep, which he had denied himself in caring for them.

Elsewhere Melein surely rested, or worked quietly. The ship proceeded, needing nothing from them. They had far, impossibly far to travel. The reference star that shone wan and distant in the center of the screen was not their destination. They had only entered the fringe of the system, and would skim outward again, into transit.